


Second Chances (the Lebenschancen remix)

by Lisztful



Category: Merlin (BBC) RPF
Genre: Angst, First Time, M/M, camelotremix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-09
Updated: 2010-10-09
Packaged: 2017-10-12 13:06:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/125138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisztful/pseuds/Lisztful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the last season of Merlin is filmed, Bradley thinks he's lost his chance to ever show Colin how he really feels about him.  But with the last episode airing, maybe Bradley has one last chance to fix it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Chances (the Lebenschancen remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mrs_leary](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=mrs_leary).
  * Inspired by [Chances](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/1618) by mrs_leary. 



> mrs_leary, I really love your fic! It was a great honor to be paired with you, and a lot of fun to reread all of your awesome fic in preparation for this challenge. I hope you like what I've done, I never could have done it if you hadn't created such wonderful works! It was terribly difficult to choose, but this story was one of my very favorites.

It had been months since they'd last spoken, which Bradley knew because he'd counted every day of it. Months which Bradley had noted with an uncharacteristic precision, and not even a really good farewell before that. They'd been hungover, the preceding evening's wrap party too close to maudlin. On the next day, tired and wan, Colin had smiled and raised a hand, already halfway across the train station. Bradley had returned the gesture, silently watching Colin slip into the crowd. There was nothing else to say.

That had been that, except for the counting, and except that on this particular day Angel called him. It was too early on a Saturday morning, but Angel was nearby and wanted coffee and a visit. Bradley said yes.

They met at a tiny cafe with butter yellow umbrellas over its too-small tables. It wasn't one of Bradley's favorite places, or even a place he particularly liked. He'd known Angel would appreciate it, though. It was bright and sunny and had little foods with French names that would remind her of Pierrefonds.

It was much too cold to sit outside, but they did anyway. Angel was wearing a deep purple hat, soft curls slipping free to bounce in the chilly morning air.

"How's Colin?" she asked without preamble. Her hands were wrapped tightly around her latte, and Bradley thought briefly of his own drink, sitting neglected in front of him. It was really too pretentious to actually consume, he should've ordered a regular coffee instead of trying to impress Angel. She hadn't believed it anyway.

"I don't know," he answered finally, reluctantly. "He was working on that film, that indie thing."

"All of Colin's projects are indie things," Angel said. Then, "You haven't spoken? That was ages ago."

Bradley shrugged, uncomfortable. "He's busy. I've- we've not had the time."

Angel shook her head, her eyes wide. "You two were always so inseparable."

"We weren't," Bradley lied. It came out a bit petulantly and he winced.

"You were," Angel said thoughtfully. "You were always clinging to each other, always waiting for one of you to do something. But you never did, did you?"

"Stop it," Bradley said, very quietly. His knuckles had gone white against the table, though he had no recollection of reaching to grip around the sides of it. Angel sighed and suddenly looked very sad.

**

That night he found himself idly flipping his mobile open and closed while staring blankly up at the television. The last episode of Merlin was airing tonight, and he felt strangely obligated to watch it. He had two hours before it would start, though, and he couldn't stop thinking about Angel's tired, disappointed face. It was that more than anything that made him ring Colin.

The telephone rang three times, unbearably slowly. It felt slippery in his clammy hand, and his chest knotted up tight as he waited. Then he heard the click of connection, sharp in Bradley's quiet flat.

" 'Lo?" Colin's voice sounded lower than Bradley remembered, almost gravelly. Bradley's throat was terribly dry, and he waited too long before choking out, "The last episode's airing tonight."

There was a brief silence, and then Colin said, "Bradley. Yeah, feels weird."

"Yeah," Bradley repeated, then rushed on before he could lose his nerve. "Look, come over, why don't you? We should watch it. Together, I mean."

He heard Colin let out a heavy breath. "Okay," he said softly. "Yeah, okay."

Bradley spent far too long trying to decide what to wear. It wasn't like him at all, and that had always been the problem with Colin. He made things so difficult, so confusing. Bradley sighed and pulled on yet another jumper, frowning at himself in the mirror.

Colin arrived at the flat with a sixer of Newcastle, and Bradley couldn't help but chuckle. It was exactly the sort of thing Colin would drink. Colin stared down at it and grinned, too, and Bradley could see that Colin knew exactly what had made him laugh.

He looked rumpled and a bit sleepy, his narrow frame tucked into a soft grey t-shirt and battered denims. "Dozed off earlier," he said with a yawn, running a hand through his mess of hair. Bradley really wanted to tousle it even more, but he resisted. He gestured Colin into his flat, instead.

"It's nice," Colin said, slouching in the doorway. Bradley followed the line of his gaze, through the living room and into the bright kitchen with its pale pine cabinets and the long expanse of counter island. "Don't suppose you've learned to cook?"

"Not hardly," Bradley said dryly, and Colin laughed, sharp and surprised. "I haven't changed at all."

"Not in that way, anyway," Colin said. Bradley couldn't decipher his tone.

"Er, come sit," he said awkwardly, and Colin laughed again and did.

Watching the episode was relatively easy. They took turns getting up for more beer, and Bradley was pleasantly buzzed and far more relaxed by the time the ending shot panned slowly across the screen. Colin sighed and crossed his arms tightly over his chest, one lip caught between his teeth. He looked quite unfairly lovely.

"Yes?" Bradley prodded. His voice cracked a little, horribly.

"You did that so well," Colin said softly, nodding at the television. "It almost doesn't fit, it's so good."

"How d'you mean?" Bradley asked. He turned to face Colin, whose cheeks were flushed the way they always got when he drank.

Colin took a slow, contemplative sip of his beer, gazing at Bradley from under half lowered lashes. "What were you thinking, when you did that?"

"I-" Bradley had been thinking a lot of things, about how he'd have to say goodbye to Colin, to everything, about how hard it was to act happy when everything was about to change. In fact he hadn't been doing a very good job of acting at all.

"I don't know," he said lamely, and although it wasn't quite true, it wasn't quite a lie either.

Colin still hadn't looked away. "I thought it was brilliant," he said very softly. "Really. When I saw it, it choked me up, you know?"

"Yeah," Bradley said softly. He could feel his cheeks warming, and he looked away. "Thanks mate."

"No, thank you," Colin said easily. "I don't think I'll ever work with someone like you again."

He couldn't help but look up at that, sharp and sudden. "How do you mean?" he asked again, and damn his voice for sounding so bloody pathetic.

Colin shrugged, finishing off his beer with one last swallow. It clicked against the coffee table when he set it down, his hand a little unsteady. He always was a bit of a lightweight. "You know what I mean, Bradley," he said neutrally. "The way we worked together, it was special. You don't get that every time. Sometimes you don't get that ever."

"I know," Bradley said quietly. "It was brilliant."

Colin tucked his legs up against his chest, suddenly looking tired. "I always thought-" he trailed off, voice uncertain.

Bradley set down his beer with a little too much force. The moment felt as though it was hanging in a very delicate balance, as though any sudden move or wrong word would upset it all. Bradley was just so tired of waiting, though, and he might never see Colin again. "If there's something you want to say to me," he said slowly. "I really think you ought to do it now."

Colin shoved a hand frustratedly through his hair. "Mate, I'm really trying." He sighed. "It's just not that easy. You know where I'm from, how I grew up."

Bradley pressed a hand against his forehead, fighting a sudden dull ache in his temple. "I know," he said heavily. "This isn't easy for me either, you know. Not like I know what to say. I don't even know if we're saying the same things."

"Just-" Colin said wearily. "Lets just don't."

It hung in the air for a long time before Bradley sighed and said, "Okay." It came out sounding flat and dull. He was fucking this up so terribly. "Look," he said, trying for a little closer to cheerful. "I'm hungry. I could make something if you like."

"You can't cook, remember?" Colin said. He sounded a little better, a little more like himself. "And I still don't eat meat."

"I know," Bradley said, affronted. "I'd not have given you meat. I could make a pasta, no tomatoes or anything else you can't have."

"I'd be shocked to learn that you even have a tomato," Colin said dryly, and then smiled, sudden and devastatingly lovely. "I'll cook."

"Er, okay," Bradley stuttered out, and Colin led the way into the kitchen.

Cooking with Colin was strange. He was confident but equal parts mystified by Bradley's kitchen. They kept up an easy back and forth, Colin half muttering and opening cabinets at random until Bradley pointed to the right place or dropped the salt or the olive oil or the dry pasta into his hand. It was nice, pleasantly warm and close, and before long smelling of good food. Colin's arm kept brushing against his as he neatly chopped up garlic and onion to drop into a pan of olive oil. The onion was a bit shriveled, probably something his mum had left last time she tried to buy Bradley groceries, but the garlic looked fine, just a little sprouted with green that Colin neatly removed. Colin seemed much more at ease now, and he kept glancing up at Bradley with a soft, easy smile, the kind that made him look ridiculously young even with his beard.

"You look good," Bradley said quietly. "I like the-" he gestured at the scruff on Colin's jaw. "It works for you."

"Yeah, unlike some people," Colin said tartly. His smile lessened the blow somewhat. "I like you without."

"Yeah?" Bradley asked. He rubbed at his jaw absentmindedly. Colin's eyes were heavy, tracking the movement. After a moment he reached out, his skin pale in the washed out fluorescence of the kitchen light. His fingers slipped whisper soft over the spot that Bradley had been rubbing. There was a fine tremor in his hand.

"Feels nice too," Colin whispered.

Almost of its own volition, Bradley felt his hand creeping up to cover Colin's. His fingers were cold, more slender than his own. The trembling sent a shiver up the length of Bradley's arm. Colin pulled away, hands splayed defensively out in front of him. He seemed a little short of breath.

"Sorry," Bradley said dully, stepping back. The space between them seemed to be widening all by itself, a growing chasm. "I'll just- I'd better, er, it's getting late."

He started to back away, cursing his own stupidity. Whatever fragile thing they'd had there, he'd just broken it. He ducked his head, blinking rapidly against the horrible, embarrassing tears that threatened to fall.

"No, wait!" Colin cried, and started after him in a stuttering lunge. Bradley stopped moving and Colin did too, collapsing in on himself with a great, exhausted sigh. "Just, I don't have anywhere else to be," Colin said quietly. "We could watch a film or something, yeah? I mean, if you like."  
Bradley squeezed his eyes closed for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, we can do that."

Colin sighed again, heavy with relief, and Bradley stumbled back into the living room.

They ended up watching the first Lord of the Rings movie, which Bradley had seen enough times that it really didn't distract him at all. They were seated at opposite ends of the sofa, too far and too formal for mates. Bradley wasn't sure whether he ought to close the distance or not, and Colin kept catching him staring, though he really was trying to be subtle.

In the end, Colin solved the problem for him by standing up and clambering onto Bradley's lap. "Thing is," he said quietly. "I feel weird, but I do want this."

He was a mass of tense limbs in Bradley's arms, quivering and unsteady. Bradley chanced placing an arm gently around Colin's back, holding him steady. "Want what, exactly?" he asked. His heart was pounding at an alarming rate, his forehead beading with sweat as he waited.

Colin squeezed his eyes closed for a long moment, his throat working as though he was searching for the right words. He reached up to cup his hands around Bradley's face, his palms soft against his cheeks. "This," he said finally, and it came out on a sigh, barely a whisper. Colin leaned forward and kissed him.

Bradley could never quite imagine what kissing Colin would be like, but this was still different than he'd expected. Colin was trembling, but he'd gone soft, almost boneless in Bradley's arms. He tilted his head up, his beard scraping over Bradley's chin in a deliciously rough grate. His lips parted easily to Bradley's tongue, and his sigh lit a fire somewhere deep in Bradley's stomach. He groaned too, overcome.

Colin kissed him again, eyes fluttering closed, lips slick and open and wanting. His breath was coming out in short, sharp pants. Bradley felt half feverish, almost sick with it, with the feel of Colin's rough cheek against his chin, the weight and angular press of him. He gasped once, slow and shocked against the now distant murmur of the television. Colin shifted, pressing down against Bradley's lap. Bradley shuddered, the weight against his cock sudden and almost unbearable.

"Wait," he forced out, too weak and high. Colin pulled back, eyes blown, mouth still open and slick.

"What?"

"Just," Bradley let himself slump back against the couch, his body too sensitive, tingling all over. "If you aren't sure, you don't have to. We could just, uh," he swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "We could just finish the film."

He could feel the moment Colin went tense, and his face drew shuttered along with it, a shaky sigh wracking his frame. "Shut up, Bradley," Colin said warningly, and he leaned forward to kiss him again. It shouldn't have felt so good, not in the wake of Colin's tired, almost sharp tone.

"I just want to know you want this," Bradley admitted, frustrated. "I just want to know I'm not making you do anything."

"Bradley," Colin said quietly. He reached for Bradley's hand, drawing it down to feel where he was hot and hard in his denims. Bradley smoothed his hand down the front of Colin's jeans, shuddering. "Okay?" Colin asked.

"Yeah, okay," Bradley said thickly. "You want to move to the bed?"

"Okay," Colin repeated, and Bradley kissed him again, just to take away his anxious expression.

Bed was different, awkward. Before they weren't so far from what was normal for them, lounging about, watching telly, having a few beers. The bedroom was different, though. It felt so much more purposeful, like now there was no way they could call it an accident, a mistake or something. Bradley didn't know whether to start undressing or to sit down and drag Colin nearer, or to wait and see if he'd do something first. It didn't feel anything like the interactions he'd had with other people, other men even. He felt the urge to take Colin into his arms, to soothe away the fear etched into his features and show him that it was all right, that they weren't doing anything so terrible. But somehow he was missing the easy confidence that he'd always had before. This was different. This was too important.

"Come here," he said finally, and Colin stepped hesitantly into the room, pausing to toe off his trainers. Bradley reached out for him, drew Colin back into his lap. That was easy enough, that was what they'd been doing out in the living room. It wasn't so different, here. Colin relaxed after a moment, surrendered to the little noises, the sliding rub as Bradley slipped his hands over Colin's arse and drew him closer, pressed their dicks together.  
As far as sex went, it wasn't particularly transgressive. They were still clothed, their movements stilted and slow. But Colin was biting his lip, his back making a graceful arc as he ground down against Bradley, the pale length of his neck exposed. Bradley bit at the join of his neck and shoulder, the marks livid against his skin. He felt so thin, the bones pushed into prominence as Bradley sucked wet kisses over them. Bradley felt a sudden rush of protectiveness, a desire to learn how to cook so that he could do it for Colin, a strangely sentimental picture of surprising him with dinner, something hot and hearty after a long, cold day. He came a moment later, embarrassingly soon, without any warning to himself or to Colin. He hadn't felt this way in years, almost a decade even. Colin hadn't even touched him.

Colin didn't seem to mind. Bradley bit his lip hard against flood of emotions too strange and sharp to bear. He fought open the button of Colin's jeans with clumsy fingers, got his hand wrapped around the hot, damp length of Colin's dick. Colin gave a sharp, high wail and came, sticky warmth covering Bradley's hand. He shuddered once, stroked Colin until he whimpered. It was only with regret that Bradley pulled away. Colin's head dropped to Bradley's shoulder and Bradley couldn't help a low, happy chuckle.

"Not my best work," he said, once they'd both caught their breath.

Colin laughed, his breath warm against Bradley's neck. "I thought it was brilliant," he said, as though imparting some great truth. "Besides, good to leave room for improvement."

Bradley only realized he'd been stroking Colin's back when he stopped, stilling abruptly. "That mean you want this to happen again?" It came out sounding more guarded than he'd intended.

Colin shifted in his lap, pulling back far enough to meet Bradley's eyes. His own looked huge and luminous in the semi-dark of Bradley's room. They hadn't bothered to put on any lights before, they'd been in too much of a hurry. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Don't you?"

Bradley squeezed his eyes closed. Still fucking it up, even after all that. "Yeah," he said, his voice raw. "I've wanted you for years. I still want you. I want you to never go."

"Well your kitchen's not really stocked for a hostage situation," Colin said, leaning forward to nuzzle a kiss over Bradley's brow. "But maybe we could compromise."

"You make a reasonable point," Bradley conceded. "Fine then, eating and livelihood, I suppose those are important."

"You're important too," Colin said, and Bradley was glad for the darkness since he could feel his cheeks heating.

"But what about where you came from, how you grew up?" Bradley asks, gesturing vaguely backward with a loose arm gesture.

"I'm going to need some time," Colin admitted. "I want it, but it won't always be easy. Can you wait on some of this?"

"This?" Bradley asked, raising an eyebrow.

Colin shrugged, gesturing down at them. "I don't know anything about this. And I don't know how to talk to my family about it, either."

Bradley kissed him, slow and sweet. "Don't worry," he said quietly, lips brushing over Colin's soft mouth. "We'll figure it out together." He kissed Colin again, carding a hand through his dark, soft hair. "You want a shower?"

"Yeah," Colin said, unfolding himself from Bradley's lap. He stood and stretched, granting Bradley a tiny smile as his shirt pulled up, revealing his pale, flat stomach. "You want to join?" It sounded shy, almost bashful, and Bradley wanted to just hold him forever, kiss every inch of him, drown in the warmth of sweetness of him.

"I do," he said, and they stripped off their clothes together, still self conscious. Bradley gritted his teeth at the mess he'd made of his pants, but Colin was suitably distracting, so tall and taut and lean. His cock looked just like the rest of him, somehow elegant, as though he was carved from marble.  
"Shower," Colin said plaintively, and grinned, quirking an eyebrow. "You can ogle me later."

"Yes and there will be absolutely no opportunity for that while we're bathing together," Bradley shot back, and then couldn't help but laugh. It was too loud, too sudden, all of the tension of the night (and if he was totally honest with himself, years before) leaving him in a sudden burst. Colin laughed too, bell-like and happy, and dragged Bradley away to the shower.

After they'd spent far too long in the shower, sliding slow soapy hands over one another and tilting their faces up at the water, Bradley tucked them both into bed. Colin, always cold, was wearing a faded, tattered shirt of Bradley's. It was too big on him and the neck kept slipping to the side to reveal a hint of the gentle curve of his shoulder. Bradley loved Colin in his clothes, in his bed. Hell, he probably loved Colin too, although that was bit scary to think about just yet. Tomorrow he'd wake up early to bring Colin tea and toast. After, he'd pull Colin close again, look at all of him in the morning light, ruck his shirt up to learn the lines of Colin's body, trace them all with his tongue. For now though, he just dragged Colin closer, dropping a kiss upon his brow. Colin murmured drowsily, pressing his lips against the hollow of Bradley's throat in a sleepy half-kiss. "We're going to be okay," he said softly, and his voice sounded warm and pleased and a lot of other good things that Bradley was ridiculously glad to have put there. "We're going to be good."

"Yeah, we are." Bradley said firmly, brushing Colin's fringe off his forehead so he could kiss it again. "We really, really are."


End file.
